After Darkness Comes Light: A Phantom Fanfic
by deadXbutterfly
Summary: Did Christine really love the Vicomte de Chagny? When she hears the screams of her former song teacher and Angel of Music, her mind turns upside down. After a long time of tasks and trouble, she finally finds her true feelings. But what about the Phantom?
1. Where There is Right, There is Wrong

After Darkness Comes Light: A Phantom Fanfic

_by deadXbutterfly_

Summary: Did Christine really love the Vicomte de Chagny? When she hears the screams of her former song teacher and Angel of Music, her mind turns upside down. After a long time of tasks and trouble, she finally finds her true feelings. But what about the Phantom, will he ever forgive the singing beauty? Will he ever feel the warmth of love and light? Only time can show, as the two songbirds begin another long journey through tears and smiles, to find the past and the truth of the darkness inside the Phantom of the Opera.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters. They all belong to monsieur Gaston Leroux.

Thanks to: Gaston Leroux, the great creator of the story of the Opera Ghost, to Susan Kay, for giving us the amazing tale of Erik from the beginning to the end, and to Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber and his amazing cast, for bringing our beloved phantom to life

Chapter 1

Where there is wrong, there is right

As the young singer Christine Daaé and her fiancée, le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny sailed fast towards their freedom, a heart broken song cut through the air of the long, cold corridors. Christine straightened her back, with a quick yank. She sad before Raoul, tears in her chocolate brown eyes, Raoul was certain that it were tears of fear, and not of sorrow, however he was wrong. His beloved Christine were filled with a sorrow unequalled; she had turned her back to the man there had given her, her voice back. She had believed so much in him and had, believed that behind the darkness, there was a creature of light. A sound came from the lair, a sound from metal against glass, and at that moment she finally understood how muck the man she just left, loved her.

Another crash was to be heard.

She could almost feel the broken glass pierce her heart, not literally, but mentally. A tear ran down her cheek. She med sure Raoul didn't see it, and looked straight ahead. A third crash sounded. It was strangely louder than the others. She cared so much about this Phantom, and that the time was running out. Christine had to choose. She knew what would happen if she didn't do anything; her angel would be fallen forever, and it would be her fault!

"Raoul, stop," she said, still without looking at him.

She could not bear the look on his face. It was bad enough to see Raoul stand there, bound to the wrought-iron in the lair. He had looked so helpless with the lasso around his neck, unable to defend himself. Christine bit her lower lip and went to stand, slowly

"Christine..?" Raoul never got to speak the sentence, before Christine broke him off.

"I have to go back, now!" she almost commanded.

Raoul was choked. He had been certain that Christine never would have second thoughts in her decision. However there stood she and was begging him to that bring her back to the man he hated most. This Phantom, that in several months had plagued the Opera, had killed without reason, and mixed the innocent singer into a mess she clearly couldn't get herself out of. Raoul understood that no. How could Christine wish to return to this monster of darkness, this angel of death?

"Christine, it is not wise to return! You do not known what he will do to you," Raoul tried.

He wanted to get her to her senses, however, it didn't work. His Little Lotte had changed so mush the last couple of years; she was no longer the little bird with the red scarf. No, she was a growing woman, and she did not react to his pleading.

Raoul could see how her begging eyes went angry and cold.

"What do you know about that, Raoul? Tell me! What have you done to get to know this man?" Christine wanted to know. Finally, Raoul stopped the boat.

"Christine, mes cher. Ce qui passé pour vous? This isn't like you!! The man killed innocent!"

Christine was right; Raoul wasn't strong enough to face the truth. He had grown a lot since then, however inside he was still the boy she met on the shore years back. She thought back on the day. The day Raoul, wit no reason, jumped into the sea after her mothers scarf. She had been scared, scared that he wouldn't get back with it.

Flashback

_I sat by the shore with father. Soft tunes streaming from his violin, and even softer tunes from my lips. It must have sounded wonderful, my innocent voice, and the rolling sounds.. The wind blew hard that day. The sand was flying around us, but we didn't notice._

_From the great cottage with the beach view, a little boy looked down on our little family, he must have been looking, how else would he know? The wind took my scarf. Like a red bird, it flew against the sea, hitting the waters edge, I screamed in sorrow. It was my mothers! The only memory I had left from her, and now the sea would take it. Desperate I ran towards the water, but when I felt my tiny feet get wet, the scarf was out of my reach._

_Raoul ran towards the shore. In his kind, good upbringing, had he learnt that one should help the ones who needed it, and I certainly did._

"_My scarf!" I screamed again._

_I was fast on its way into the water, and so was I. However my father came to my rescue. He grabbed me about the waist, and tore me back._

_The young vicomte quickly came to rescue my scarf. He jumped headlong into the water and swam as if his life depended on it, which it very likely did. He clearly overworked himself, however it seemed he didn't feel the pain the cold water was giving him._

_At shore, father and I watched choked when the boy threw himself forth to the high waves._

"_Father, do something!" I cried._

_Father followed the boy, and in short time, they were both safely ashore._

Flashback end

"Oui, Raoul. Et pourquoi? Il a fait cela pour me montrer,qu'il ferait tout pour moi gat à ses côtes! (Yes, Raoul, and why? so He did it to show me, that he will do anything to gat me by his side!)she yelled, anger in her beautiful voice. Once again, he was choked.

"You aren't who I believed you were, Raoul. You are still the boy there fetched my mothers scarf at the sea, and you've not changed," she explained.

When she saw that Raoul didn't understand, she started to explain further.

"Raoul I certainly loved you. However, this angel has always followed me. It has always been my dream to meet him in blood and flesh, and here he is. I beg of you, Raoul, you must see! I loved you, but you'll always be the one were, for me,"

There she stood and looked into Raouls blank; blue eyes. She knew that she never would be able to lose herself to his eyes, like she did in her angels. And so knew Raoul.

"Christine.. Just do what you think is right, I can't say anything else. However, don't ask me to bring you back there!"

Christine nodded, and embraced him.

"Raoul, I am truly sorry for no reflecting you love," she whispered against his cold, wet shirt.

Raoul broke free from her warm embrace, and drew himself away from her. Not in disgust, but in respect.

"Then mat all luck and happiness be on your side Chri... Mademoiselle Daaé," he said firmly, knowing that she wouldn't answer him.

He was right, she didn't answer. Instead she kicked her shoes off, lifted the beautiful wedding gown. Slowly she made her way into the water. Her skin burned as the cold, black water hit her, and soon she had the same horrible feeling all over her body.. She looked up at Raoul, and before he knew it, she was on her way back to the man that had mesmerized through so many years. This was another ending, and another goodbye in her ever-growing collection. She didn't fear the Phantom anymore; their kiss had changed so much for her. It had been waking something inside of her, but she didn't know what it was, just that it was a new, frightening feeling. A feeling of truth, honesty and faith, all mixed into one:

Love.

Raoul looked after Christine, her small frame faded slowly as she moved forwards. Sorrowful he once again started to push the boat forwards. He had lost her twice, and didn't want to go through the pain again. Deciding to start a new life, he sailed with an open mind towards his future, a future without Christine.

oOoOoOo

She was trapped in a corner of the liar and saw it happen. The small ballet girl with the straight blonde hair and the big, blue eyes, Meg Giry held the white half-mask to her racing heart. The fear was obvious, and the tears could fall every second. It pained her to see the mob destroying the beautiful home of the opera ghost. She should have listened to her mother, and now she knew why; the lair was in ruins and a bad smell of burnt fabric and smoke filled the thin air; these people wouldn't get away with this, and she knew it.

The mob had done all they could to find the _monster_, but they didn't seem to progress. Meg on the other hand, knew where he was. But as long as she kept in the shadows where no one would see her, nobody would ask. But maybe she could make them leave, before they did more damage to this beautiful lair. She could tell a lie to make them go away?

"Messieurs, the monster are not here, I saw him flee before you came. That way!" she yelled, pointing at the gate they all just came from.

Another wave of fear hit her, as a big man went to stand in front of her. In that moment, she knew that no one believed her. He looked at her with a killing glance. Meg tried to keep her eyes at her shiny boots, but the man grabbed her by the chin, and forced her to look at him. He was horrifying; his face was filled with folds of fat, and his nose had probably been broken e few times. He made the Phantom look like prince charming in her eyes.

"Well, well. This tiny mademoiselle seems to know something we don't," he spoke, in a level that only she could her.

In rage, Meg spat him in the face. The man shot her death-looks, before taking a firm grip by her delicate shoulders.

"Did you hear me messieurs? This little whore, seems to be one of the beasts allies!" he yelled mockingly, and pushed Meg away.

The poor girl lost her balance, and fell to the ground. She didn't look up, not even when a bunch of people was gathering around her.

"You can be right, Gautier. We can't take any chances," mumbled man.

He took hold of Megs wrist.

oOoOoOo

Christine looked towards Meg, as she was surrounded by more and more people. In a few seconds, Christines fear turned to hate. Meg was as a sister to her, and had always been by her side when she needed it. The feeling of rage she had was indescribable.

Meg's blood was everywhere, and it was first when she curled herself into a ball, the mob stopped. They picked up their searching and left Meg in a pool of her own blood. Frustrated Christine bit her lower lip. . She wanted to help, she wanted to help Meg so bad, but she just couldn't. She knew what would happen if she showed up in there; they would take her, just like the Phantom did. They would force her to tell where the _monster_ would be, and when she said that she didn't know, they would hit her. She could be brave, but never brave enough to go willingly through the same pain as little Meg.

oOoOoOo

Meg couldn't hols the tears back, they ran down her pale cheeks, and mingled with the blood on the ground. The wound wasn't as bad as they looked, but it still hurt awfully when she tried to move. When she in a helpless move, tried to sit up, she collapsed and hit her head to the ground. She moaned and her hand was wildly searching for something that would help her. Nothing was there. Lost and broken she picked up on her helpless sobbing.

Then it came, the triumphing yell of a man that had just made his greatest wish come true:

"We got him! We got the monster!"

The man repeated himself several times. Him, and 3 other men came dragging with a limp man, who mostly looked like a corpse. They pushed him to the ground with a force, which sent him sliding along the floor. He had learnt to ignore physical pain, but the mental losses he felt, made him forget all about it. He was just lying on the floor, not making a sound. Gautier kneeled beside him, grabbed a bunch of hair, and yanked the Phantom up.

"Tell me, who is the monster behind the mask?" he asked mockingly.

The phantom didn't answer. Not before he was kicked in the ribs. He nodded slowly, before opening his mouth to speak

"Erik," he spoke weakly.

Gautier yanked Eriks head further back, and kissed him in pure triumph. They had finally caught the man, the _monster_, which had killed Bouquet and Piangi. He hit the Phantom across the marred side of his face and pushed him into the water. Another man, even lager that Gautier, came to kneel beside the fallen Phantom.

"Goodbye Erik," he spat as he forced the head of the Phantom under water.

A cascade of bubbles rose to the surface, bur soon died out. The water was still, and the mob didn't even move. The silence was lying over the lair as a soft blanket of relief. They had won! The man who drowned Erik, pushed the numb body into the freezing water.

The rest of the mob just stood, looking after any signs of survival, but the signs never came. One of the last men took hold of Meg, and helped her out.

She was clearly innocent. The Phantom hadn't looked at her, not even once, and if she really was his allied. Well, then she probably had learned her lesson.

oOoOoOo

When the lair finally was empty, Christine came out from her hiding. Her face was shining of tears, and the pain she felt in her heart, was clearly displayed in her body language. She felt a grief, stronger than ever, and anyway how much she tried to suppress it, it still grew stronger. Her normally beautiful curls were hanging lifeless around her pale face, and the chocolate brown eyes were swollen by tears.

Never minding she stepped into the black water. She wouldn't let her poor angel rot in a wet grave. **That **was certainly not what she wanted. _"I denied the both,"_ she thought in despair.

This was all her doing, and it was so clear; if she had just left the mask ob his face, she wouldn't stand in this horrible grief. Then, Erik would probably just have waited till after the performance and then gentle lead her to his lair.

En this dark hour, Christine smiled. _"Erik,"_ she had never believed her angel to have a name. _"Erik,"_ it fit him perfectly. She kept repeating his name mentally, until she was sure that she never would forget it.

She kept looking for Erik I several minutes, until her naked foot hit something hairy, a head? Christine threw herself into the waters and dived. She finally found his wrist, and locked her tiny hands around it.

With a great deal of struggling, she finally got him safely ashore.

xXxXxXx

Hello cutiepies xD  
Thanks for reading.

Well, I know this might look familiar, and that might be because of my missing creativity, you se.. I've already posted this once, but I wasn't pleased with it. It wasn't long enough and stuff like that, so well.. Here you go..

But please remember; I'm only an obsessed teenager, and I normally speaks an writes Danish, so if there is something that just don't fit, tell me, and I'll start to pay attention in my English class xD

Oh! And next chapter is already written, I just need to translate it, and then this "wonderful" fanfic will continue oO

Best regards,

Charlie


	2. Changing Winds

After Darkness Comes Light: A Phantom Fanfic

_By deadXbutterfly_

Chapter 2

Changing Winds

Too much had been happening to the young, Swedish singer the last twenty-four hours. She sat, crying and cold beside a man she only a few hours ago, hated more than anything else. He had been everything she believed in for many years, but the last three months had changed everything. He wasn't the angel she naively had hoped he would be. Only a few hours ago this very same man tried had to kill her fiancée, but still she now sat by his side, wishing he would open his eyes.

He was lying unconscious on the cold floor of his home and had been there for minutes. The only signs he showed of living, was his chest rising and sinking in line with his rattling breath. His clothes and hair were still wet, and he was clearly freezing.

Slowly she raised his hand to his marred face. She wasn't certain how he'd react when he woke. She feared his anger more than anything else, and hoped she wouldn't be exposed to it again.

Flashback

_I carefully raised my hands to his face. One caressed his naked cheek. The other followed the edge of the white half-mask. I had an incredible desire to see who my angel was. I was truly seduced by his mysterious appearance, but something inside me screamed for the truth. And the truth I got; the before so gentle angel who had led me to his paradise of darkness had disappeared. I found myself on the floor, pushed away by a strong arm. _

_"Do you wish to curse yourself?" he screamed in anger while he tried to cover his deformity with his hand._

_"It is so clear that you are an actress, dear Christine! Why… Why?" _

_The tears rolled down my cheeks. I had not considered why this man carried a mask, but now I knew. The face was more deformed than anything I had ever seen in my whole life. The entire right side of his face was red and swollen, several extreme scars marked it and the eyebrow fell heavily to his eye. I had only seen a short gleam of it, but I had seen enough. Shaking, I handed him the white mask. Admittedly I was afraid, but I felt sorry for this man, this __**Phantom**_

Flashback end

Her caresses of his scarred cheek continued. Admittedly she had found him repulsive, but it was past. Now she saw him least as handsome as Raoul. _"Raoul... We had so much in common you and I. Ever since the day at the beach, the day you saved mothers scarf from the seas greedy waves... I loved you, Raoul. I still do, just not as I used to."_ Christine got up. She knew that Erik was still alive, and she didn't want to be the cause of him falling ill. She began to look for blankets. In her search she found many odd things, but that awakened her curiosity most was the drawings wish were laying on a big, beautiful oak's table. On every single drawing it was the same face, her face. It was almost like looking into a mirror; the eyes were the same, the nose, the lips, well even the long curls fell in the same way.

The young girl couldn't avoid feeling guilty; she had turned her back to him without knowing what she denied, without knowing how much he loved her. Once again eyes tears gathered in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Finally, after many months she saw what she had done. The man, who had called after her in so many years, had clearly not been leading an easy life. The very idea that she had added pain to his collection was unbearable, but she had to realize that this all was her fault. The kidnapping, the letters, the murders, all this was just to prove his love.

"My dear angel, what have I done?" she whispered, so quiet it barely could be heard. She looked at the drawings a couple of minutes before she continued her search for blankets. When she finally found them, she heard a whisper, a hoarse and weak whisper.

"Chri… Stine,"

She looked back at the Phantom who still was lying completely still on the cold floor. Had he called her? Did he know she was there? With beating heart and the blankets in her arms she went back to the weak shape. She sat down again at his side, and covered him carefully in the dry carpets.

"I am so sorry, my angel. I didn't know… You never said why…"

Again the tears ran down her cheeks. She took his hand, and to her surprise she felt him give it a short squeeze, before it again was as limp as the rest of him. _"He will make it. He has to make it!"_ Christine thought. She tried to keep her head high, in defiance of that he, her angel, now was lying unconscious. She pulled herself together, it could be hours before he woke, and no matter what it wasn't healthy to lie on such cold floor.

With shaking hands she moved the blankets just as careful as she had been placing them, and began nervously to unbutton his shirt. What if he would wake while she was doing this? What wouldn't he think of her? The thoughts frightened the poor singer, but she continued. After a lighter fight with the shirt, she got it of him. She shortly looked at his naked upper body; his chest was covered by scars, probably from a hard youth. Christine shook her head. It was his past, and she didn't want to torment him by asking questions.

Determinedly she started to take his boots off. That was luckily not as hard as it was getting him free of his shirt. No, they just lightly slipped of his long feet. With a little trouble she got a blanket under him and slowly but safely she pulled him over at the floor. It was more difficult than she had expected. The blanket continued to slip out of her damp hands, and her arms weren't strong enough. Finally she got him to a near standing couch, close to the fireplace. She managed to handle him onto the couch, and once again she covered him with the blankets. _"That man isn't what he looks like," _she smiled slightly at the thought of that she, completely by herself had moved him from one side of the room to the other. Now she had one thing less to care about and that lifted a burden from her chest. She went down after his shirt and boots, and placed them both to dry at the fireplace which she carefully lit up in.

Christine took a look around. The cave was one big mess, but there wasn't anything she could do about it, she didn't want to search though his personal belongings just because she was dissatisfied with the places looks. When the thought flew through her head, she looked at Erik; he looked incredibly peaceful, lying there on the bed. She took a deep breath and saw down by herself. The beautiful wedding gown was completely destroyed, and it hung heavily to her body. Now that she considered it, it was both cold and damp. _"I should probably go change into something else. If I am not careful, is it me who ends with a cold."_ She got to her feet, and went to change.

oOoOoOo

Raoul de Chagny was an honourable man in many ways; he originated from one of Paris' finest and mostly respected families and he had always had a chance to get everything he pointed at. But that was past. He had in less than twenty-four hours lost what he held most dear. Christine Daaé, his precious Christine. They had known each other since childhood, where he saved her mothers scarf from the sea. Now he was nothing to her. He knew it, but he didn't want to admit it. Nor did he want to admit that he had lost to the most frightening man he had ever met, the opera's own ghost. _"It is almost embarrassing. What won't father to say, when he finds out about this?"_ It was the thought that hit him when he finally stood in front of his parents' property. He looked up on the large, beautiful building. Even in this dark period of his life, this place meant peace. The memories came back like the rain falling to the ground. He and Christine had spent so much time in this house. It almost became her second home.

The water rose to his blue eyes, but he didn't want to let it fall. He had lost this girl earlier, this Daaé who apparently wasn't intended for him. He saw her happy face with the two large, brown eyes and the dark curls that encircled her innocent face. Once againg he looked at the house and made a decision. No, his father shouldn't know about this, not today.

oOoOoOo

Erik coughed weakly. His head ached like mad and his ribs were even worse. He could weakly remember being dragged out of his sanctuary, and people gathered about him. But otherwise everything was black. He however, was certain that he had seen Christine. _"Christine.. I might never see you again."_ He tried to move his hand to his misshapen cheek. But surprisingly, he couldn't move the hand more than a few inches. Annoyed, Erik his eyes and looked down himself, he was packed into quite a few blankets.

When he looked around, he recognized the place as his own lair. Relieved he took in a deep breath and tried to get up in a sitting posture. He fell back when the pain from the ribs shot through his weak body. Erik coughed once again.

_"It doesn't matter," _he mumbled and closed his eyes._ "Christine is probably already happy married with that __**boy**__ of a vicomte. She is probably happy about finally getting rid of her chasing angel!"_

When he, minutes later again opened his eyes, he couldn't believe what he saw. There, right in front of him, stood the most beautiful woman he had met. Her brown eyes showed the largest worry as she looked down at his weak shape. The long curls fell about her shoulders, and rested lightly on her chest.

"Christine?" Erik whispered, unable to say anything else. Paralysed by the shock, he stared at her pretty face. Standing there in the costume he himself had designed for _Don Juan Triumphant_, she looked just as true and innocent as she did, during the performance.

Christine nodded. She had tears in her eyes. They could clearly be seen in defiance of the distance between them. _"What is she doing here? What about her precious vicomte?" _The questions were lying on his tongue, but he couldn't speak them. He was afraid that she'd turn from him, and again leave him behind in his inner darkness.

"You came back? Why?" he asked harsh. After some time, fighting with the blankets, he finally got the arms free and sat up. The pain was unbearable but his questions had turned into anger.

Christine looked away, scared. She turned on the heels, and went to the bank, where she sat down, in shelter from his angry look. He couldn't see, but he knew that she cried. Not only because she was sobbing loudly, but also because that he gradually knew her feelings. Well fine then! If this was how she wanted to have it. She had already left him behind in more pain than her small, innocent heart could imagine. I would take weeks for him to get calm again.

Quickly he got up from the couch, with the teeth bitten well together in an attempt to ignore the aching ribs, and the thumping head.

"Do you have any idea of who much pain you've caused?" Erik asked just ad harsh as before.

When she didn't answer he continued:

"Christine, I have walked through hell for you, but you just do not want to understand it, do you?" He had to support himself on the backrest of the couch. Just speaking made the ribs ache.

Christine's sobbing died. Erik looked at her as she once again came up to him. She didn't need words to express herself. The look in her eyes told him everything, and what he saw broke his heart. She didn't look as young and beautiful, as she used to. She was paler than normal, her lips were dry, and below her eyes there were dark pouches.

"It is you who do not understand, monsieur," Christine said quietly.

Her voice was still like music in Erik's ears, but it certainly wasn't good music. It was only to compare of that of an untuned violin. He looked away. The mere thought of him, ruining her soft, innocent and truly beautiful voice with his harsh words was unbearable.

"You refer to the fact that I left you? Yes, I can only say that I never, truly left you. If you think yesterday over, do you then remember the violent attack you were under?" she asked coldly.

Erik nodded. He still couldn't force himself to look at her. He knew what had happened.

Flashback

_I knew they were after me. I had listened to their angry calls earlier, but now they were very close. I was sitting, sketching Christine a last time, before I was drawn out of my sanctuary. I knew the four that knocked me out. They were all stage mechanics and close friends of Bouquet. _

_They shouted at me. I do only remember it weakly, but I know that they mocked me like everyone else. Mocked me with my appearance, but what should I do? There was at least twenty of them, and one of me. _

_Then the violence started. They hit me, kicked me… Then I fell… Into the abyss, the cold, wet abyss. And there she was. _

_Christine. _

Flashback end

"Christine…" Erik finally looked at her. He realized that she had saved him from a very wet grave. She shook the head, and sat down by his side. He could feel her heat when her delicate hand found the way to his shoulder. His skin was strangely cold under her fingers.

"Angel, you must relax, you aren't healthy," she said softly, before she got up and went back to the bank, where she quietly began to sing. To Erik's surprise her voice was again beautiful and pure, but something had changed, it wasn't as innocent as it used to be, which surprised him. Now that he thought about it, it had been in this state since the performance the other night.

He got up quickly, and threw out a gasp of pain, before he again fell back on the couch.

Christine stopped her song and listened. She rose slowly, and took Erik's mask from the table. She kissed it gently. In defiance of its very condescending appearance, it was beautiful. Carefully she brought it along herself up to Erik. He was lying in cramps. When she saw him, she increased speed, she almost ran over to the couch where she threw herself at her knees, her face was on the same height as his. Carefully she raised a shaking hand to his disfigured cheek. She looked into his dark, green eyes which were filled with pain.

"You must stay calm," she burst out worried.

Her touch was like medicine for him, and he slowly began to relax. Christine looked away from him. He wasn't as helpless as he looked, but she knew that he overworked himself. She was worried, and she knew that he could feel it.

When he opened the mouth to protest she put a finger on his lips. He sighed despairingly, and arranged himself. Christine stayed on the floor, looking at him, sadness in her eyes.

"You need rest, you have deserved to get a moment of peace," she whispered, before she got up and left him.

She brought the mask with her, hoping he hadn't noticed her bringing it to him at all. But her wish didn't come true. He saw very well that she brought the mask along, and couldn't help but smile satisfied. He had finally got her! Now she was finally his…

oOoOoOo

The fire's heat was lost on Christine, as she was sitting in front of the fire. She couldn't avoid thinking of the way Erik had reacted. She had doubted if he still wished her company. The thought frightened her a lbit. The man, who in many years had been singing to her now seemed to be completely cold. She gently caressed the mask. It was probably one of her angels' most important belongings. Well, the mask and the organ. She took a deep sigh. _"He gets so angry when he sees what they have done to it."_ The organ was almost complety burned and it was impossible to repair. Yes, she knew that Erik had been building a lot of things, but half of the beautiful instrument was ruined. She couldn't stay in chess any longer, and before she knew it she started to clean the place up.

Countless objects were destroyed, and only half of it could be repaired. She was however, surprised finding a copy of _Don Juan Triumphant _unharmed. It was after all, what had caused this mess. She put it at his sketches, and after short time she gave up. The poor girl had no idea of where anything was supposed to be. Instead she sat down in front of the fire, in order to wait on Erik to wake.

The young girl fell asleep quickly. The soft crackling from the fire was like a lullaby to her; relaxing and calm. In her sleep, she saw everything she had seen the previous evening, like a movie running through her head.

She saw Raoul, bound to the grille while Erik, mockingly, stood in front of him. She saw Meg again. The slender girl, lying on the ground, covered in her own blood. And once again Erik who were surrendered by four men.

The cold-sweat hailed of her, she groaned and turned in the chair, the pictures changed faster in her head and subconsciousness could no longer keep up with it.

She opened the eyes and looked wildly around the room. She still was in Eriks lair. Now, that was at least a good thing. But where was he? She had not slept that long, but he was clearly not where she had last left him.

Panic hit her, and she got up. She searched every single corner of the lair, having to realize that she was alone. This time it was him who had left her. The tears gathered in the Swedish girls eyes, but they didn't fall, she didn't want to let them fall. Instead she huddled like a little child, and hid her face in her arms. In defiance of the many candles she felt cold. She hadn't noticed cold air earlier, but now that she was alone it attacked her shaking body.

"Get up, Christine", a voice behind her said, a voice which could only belong to one person in this world.

"Erik!" she burst out in despair.

She got up puickly, and ran towards her angel. She threw her arms arond him, and started to cry.

"I thought you had left me", she sobbed against his shoulder.

He tried carefully to wrench himself out of her grasp. She squeezed so hard that his broken the ribs sang of pain and over-load. When she finally let go of him, he placed his hands on her delicate shoulders, forcing her to look at his masked face.

"Christine, what are you doing here? Why did you come back?" he asked seriously.

Christine bit her lower lip, before she shook her head. She gently took hold of his arm, and led him to the couch, where he had just slept. Shaking she sat down and started to consider how she could express herself.

Erik noticed her shaking, and put one of the many blankets over her shoulders.

"I could not follow him," she started, slowly.

"- He seemed so... Well, he wanted to get me as far away from you as possible. I don't know what happened but I jumped into the water. I couldn't leave you in the hands on those people, they nearly killed you!"

Now the tears flowed down her cheeks. Erik went to put a corforting arm around her. He couldn't bring himself to force this out of her. Instead he waited patiently.

"I saw it all, you… Meg… It was awful!"

Erik raised his hand ro her chin, and gently forced Christine to look at him.

"Christine mon Ange, you have still not said why you came back," he whispered into her ear.

Christine's body shivered. He had often talked to her in this way, but now the feeling was different. She met his eyes, and bit her lower lip.

"I do not know," she mumbled.

Erik nodded. He got up quickly and looked around the lair. It was clear that he was unhappy about having lost half of his properties of destruction. No, he wasn't sad, he was furious.

"Do you return to the Vicomte?" he suddenly asked.

Erik looked at Christine, who shook her head.

"No, I... It felt wrong to travel with him. He was my best friend and playmate, he was my fiancé... Oh Erik relax! Just listen to me!" she burst out when she saw Erik's eyes flash under the black mask he carried.

"No... He was my fiancé…"

Erik couldn't believe what he heard. The vicomte had been her fiancée, as in used to be. If he hadn't been at this state of fury, he would have embraced Christine. But he didn't. First, because of his anger, and second, because he didn't want to be so forward. Not now. Not when she finnaly was his. His only!

Christine seemed to be able to read his face, and she couldn't avoid smiling of his sudden varying expressions. She got up slowly. And carefully she approached her angel. To her surprise tears came from his eyes.

Carefully she tried to wipe the away, but he turned from her.

Christine's heart fell. He pushed her away, and she was very well aware that he did it on purpose.

"Erik... What..." she began wounded.

"Christine. Oh Christine, are you aware of what kind of mess you have gotten yourself into?" he asked without looking at her. Christine shook her head. She turned on the heels and ran towards her room.

xXxXxXx

Greetings sweetypies!

Well, as I promised I wouldn't be gone for long, and here I am! XD

Please fogive me, this chappie might be filled with bad grammer and spelling, but my dectionary is going crazy.. I did my best, and here you got the result of four sleepless nights.. oO

Rose123579

- I'm glad you like it ,

Best regards,

Charlie


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